


Unrelenting

by irisbleufic



Series: Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed [17]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Candles, Canon Autistic Character, Canon Queer Character, Canon Queer Relationship, Catharsis, Cologne, Consensual Kink, Dinner, Established Relationship, Flowers, Hedonism, Idiots in Love, Kink Negotiation, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Murder Husbands, POV Oswald Cobblepot, Pain, Perfume, Psychopaths In Love, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Roses, Scents & Smells, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers, Sensory Deprivation, Sensory Overload, Villains, Wax Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 03:02:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11546127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: India to England, cultivated twice.  Names have I many; only one will suffice.  What am I?[Third in a sequence of prompt-ficlets; refers toWYFIRandScars, but can be read as a stand-alone.  The riddle's one I wrote.]





	Unrelenting

Oswald swirled the remainder of his wine, contemplating Edward's shadow-cast features as Edward fastidiously wiped his mouth on the nearest linen napkin. The subdued light suited him, as did a measure of newfound relaxation.

Olga, on the other hand, hadn't been happy about being asked to set up both the lower floor and the master bedroom as fire-hazards. At least that's what _she'd_ called putting the white tapers everywhere. Once she'd finished cooking and set the dining table, Oswald had dismissed her.

Edward had returned from visiting with Ivy and company, under escort, to an entirely candlelit dinner.

“I wasn't expecting this,” Edward remarked for at least the third time in the hour they'd spent eating.

“That was pretty much the point, Ed,” Oswald told him, finishing his wine. “Your reward for coming home without incident.” He took out his phone, scrolling through texts. “Ivy tells me you are, and I quote, the nerdiest nerd ever to nerd. I shudder to think what you must've shown her.”

“It was the opposite, actually,” Edward said, folding his napkin beside his plate. “She explained just about every plant she's growing, as well as what she does with them. Color me impressed.”

“That you came home no more green than usual was a shock, I assure you,” said Oswald, rising from his chair. He stepped behind Edward's, setting his hands on Edward's shoulders. “May I?”

“That question usually precedes either a surprise or a particular kind of physical contact, or sometimes both,” Edward said, tipping his head back, regarding Oswald upside-down. “Be my guest.”

“Chin down,” Oswald insisted, beginning to loosen his tie as Edward complied. “Glasses off.”

Edward hummed approvingly as Oswald tugged his tie free of his collar and used it to blindfold him.

“Not the proper one I've promised you, not by any stretch,” Oswald admitted, “but I'm working on it.”

“I'm impressed you picked up such fine hand-stitching from your parents,” Edward said, clumsily tucking his glasses into his breast pocket. “I can sew, but only with my old Singer.”

“My mother knew how out of necessity; my father knew because tailoring was a personal interest. Your machine's still in the spare bedroom, need I remind you,” Oswald said, kissing the top of his head. “I think Ivy wanted to run off with it, but she restrained herself.”

“Send it up the road, maybe,” said Edward, softly. “As a token of my thanks. Oswald, why am I—”

“If you ask too many questions, I won't go through with any of it,” Oswald cautioned. “Here, get up.”

Oswald led Edward upstairs, enjoying the turn-about from so many months ago. Edward's lack of coordination was amplified by the fact that his eyes were covered; he almost stumbled twice.

“I can smell more beeswax,” Edward commented as Oswald stationed him beside the nightstand and picked up the matches Olga had left for them, “but the candles aren't li— _ah_ , never mind.”

Oswald lit the single taper on the nightstand and began his circuit of the room, illuminating each three-tiered candelabra. Dressing table, window sills, chest of drawers. He turned out the lights, satisfied.

“There's something else in here,” Edward said, turning toward the bed, which was freshly made and invitingly turned-down. He used the nightstand to orient himself, taking a few steps forward. Running his fingers along the edge of the mattress, he frowned. “Smells like one of Ivy's...”

Oswald situated him on the edge of the mattress, reaching behind him to fetch the aromatic item off the pillow. He placed it in Edward's hands, curling Edward's fingers around the ribbon-bound stems.

“India to England, cultivated twice. Names have I many; only one will suffice,” Oswald said, brushing Edward's cheek as Edward, overwhelmed, buried his nose in the bouquet. “What am I?”

“ _Rosa bourbonia_ ,” Edward mumbled into the vivid pink petals, “known as Edward's Rose.” He let the thorn-stripped bundle fall to his lap, turning his head toward Oswald. “Did you compose that?”

“For my sins, yes,” Oswald admitted, guiding the dozen roses back up to Edward's nose. “Passable?”

“Chlorophyll bite, warmth like amber resin,” Edward breathed, inhaling again. “An unusual variety.”

“Ivy explained they'd be a darker scent than, say, your average flower-shop red or white,” Oswald went on, loosening the knot on the blindfold, whipping it away. “She did grow these.”

Edward smiled at the frilly, coral-shaded blooms, running his index finger up the side of one before, unexpectedly, crushing it in his fist. He pulled the petals away, examining them at close-range.

“I ought to have asked her for a baker's dozen,” Oswald sighed, scooting closer to him, impatient.

“Did you know,” Edward said, “that it takes around twenty-five pounds of petals to produce five milliliters of rose absolute? More than that if you're distilling for rose otto.” He reached behind them and scattered the petals on the sheets, leaning to bury his nose in Oswald's collar. “Creed? Royal Scottish Lavender,” he said, correctly identifying Oswald's cologne. “That one's exquisite on you.”

Oswald held Edward close, stroking his hair, letting him get as scent-drunk as he liked. “You'd ought to wear the one I got you more often,” he said, starting on Edward's buttons. “No tie today, _tsk_.”

“For all you know, I might have gotten filthy,” Edward muttered, licking a stripe from Oswald's neck up to his ear. “Still as bitter as I remember,” he said, disappointed. “I always want it to taste good.”

“Licking perfume is only an acceptable hobby in private, and only when it's on me,” Oswald cautioned, pushing Edward back far enough so he could shrug out of his jacket and let Oswald divest him of his shirt. “I hope to _God_ you didn't attempt to taste Ivy's house special.”

“No, but I got a bit too close to her at one point and may or may not have been induced to say a few things I'll regret later if Cat decides to use them against me,” said Edward, hesitantly, frowning down at Oswald as he peeled off Edward's bottom layers. “Those girls are dangerous.”

“I'm sure it was innocuous enough,” Oswald lied, nuzzling Edward's belly before letting Edward pull him back to his feet. He shed his jacket on the floor and undressed for Edward as suggestively as he could manage, pleased at how quickly the gesture escalated Edward's arousal.

“You left your tie,” Edward pointed out, nodding at the edge of the mattress. He presented his wrists.

“I was about to ask whether you wanted to be blindfolded again, but that will do,” Oswald said, binding Edward's wrists. He helped Edward scoot back and settle against the pillows, amused by Edward's seeming surprise at what the rose petals felt like. “Not what you expected?”

“Cooler than I thought,” Edward explained, arms draped above his head. “In the temperature sense.” He responded eagerly when Oswald bent down to kiss him, shifting his hips. “Speaking of which, I'd like to try something,” he mumbled against Oswald's mouth. “Use one of the candles?”

“No flame in contact with skin, if that's what you're asking,” Oswald said. “You're in no shape for that.”

“No,” clarified Edward, petulantly, squirming with insistence. “I meant you ought to use the wax.”

“That's going to hurt considerably more than what you usually ask for,” replied Oswald, reluctant and excited all in the same breath. “More than biting, pulling your hair, scratching—”

“No more than when you smack me,” said Edward, contrarily. “And I request that often enough.”

“We haven't found this necessary before,” Oswald said, “but I'm going to insist you pick a safe-word.”

Edward bit the inside of his lower lip, worrying at it as his eyes tracked over the high, ornate ceiling.

“Janet,” he said after half a minute's consideration, his anxious, expectant gaze returning to Oswald.

“That's...an unusual choice, but all right,” Oswald said, kissing Edward's forehead. “Roll over.”

“It's from the ballad,” Edward explained, voice abruptly muffled in the pillow as he complied. “The one I sang when Bruce asked me for a distraction. _But hold me fast, and fear me not_ —”

“ _And I'll do you no harm_ ,” Oswald finished for him, stroking from Edward's nape to his tailbone. “I remember now. I will not do _anything_ you haven't already asked for, and if I slip...?”

“I'll call you Janet,” said Edward, smugly. “That's the part you played, if you really think about it.”

“Right now, I don't want to dwell on the accidental literary implications of our recent scrape,” Oswald murmured, bending to place a kiss between Edward's lightly-scarred shoulder blades. He reached for the nearest candle, which was on the nightstand. “There are smarter ways of doing this,” he sighed, testing the wax between his fingertips. “With planning. And materials made for the purpose.”

“Where'd be the fun in _that_?” asked Edward, coyly, wriggling with impatience beneath Oswald.

“I rue the day you learned to improvise,” Oswald sighed. “I'm going to start high, unless you object.”

“I'm beginning to get why you often despair of my pillow talk,” Edward goaded. “You can do—”

Irritated—rising to the bait, like Edward wanted—Oswald delivered a merciless slap to Edward's left side. The impact shook them both, causing some wax to drip off the candle and onto Edward's spine.

Edward twitched, wincing in shock, jostling Oswald where he straddled Edward precariously.

“Better than that?” Oswald sneered, challenging him. “Is that what you were about to say, Ed?”

“No,” Edward lied, turning his head sideways against the pillow, panting hard. “Of course not.”

Oswald braced his left hand against the mattress, making sure his wrist maintained contact with the spot he'd smacked, knowing the sensation would ground Edward. He tipped the candle with his right, trailing a calculated, if inconsistent streak of wax-dribbles up to Edward's neck.

Edward jerked under him, tied hands above his head straining against the restriction of Oswald's tie.

“There's a drawback to doing this with you lying on your front,” Oswald whispered, bending low so that his breath ghosted across Edward's earlobe. “I can't see how much you're enjoying it.”

“I can feel how much _you're_ enjoying it,” Edward pouted, giving Oswald another bounce, emphasizing the way Oswald's erection occasionally brushed at the small of his back.

“We've covered this,” said Oswald, mildly, forcing disdain into his tone. He dumped the wax that had accrued since the last dispersal squarely on Edward's right shoulder blade. “It's my...thing.”

Edward bore the extended puddling for a startling number of seconds before he broke into a whimper.

“It's one of your things all right,” he gritted out, relaxing beneath Oswald. “Oh, _that_...that was...”

“Please don't tell me we're finished,” snapped Oswald, finding he didn't even have to feign disappointment. He repeated the action on Edward's left shoulder, making an even bigger puddle.

This time, Edward actually shouted, the entirety of his body gone taut as a bowstring.

“J—Just, _no_ ,” he managed raggedly, somehow reassuring. “I'm d—definitely. _Not_ done.”

Oswald closed his eyes briefly, overwhelmed at the sight of Edward's reddening, wax-punctuated flesh. The fiercer his desire, the less steady his hand. He risked dripping wax where he _didn't_ want it.

“Let's see,” he said, clearing his throat, regaining his sense of command, “how these marks are coming.” He scratched away the bits of wax that hadn't rolled onto the sheets, smoothing his palms surreptitiously over Edward's back as he worked. “Shoulders. You'll feel those for _days_.”

“I still think,” Edward said, regaining too much of his composure for Oswald's liking, “you're afraid.”

Unexpected, the wave of partially genuine anger that hit Oswald as a result. He seized Edward's hair with his left hand, yanking as hard as he dared, and tipped some wax down Edward's lately-slapped side.

Edward's scream was equal parts chilling and arousing, as was his bitten-back sob of Oswald's name.

Instinctively, Oswald blew out the candle and dropped it on the floor. He climbed off of Edward, flexing his burning right knee, nudging at Edward until he rolled onto his back. He'd pushed Edward to the limit and couldn't tell if Edward had staunchly refused to use the safe-word, or if...

Edward was tearfully panting, but his belly and the sheets were a mess. That explained everything.

“Ed,” Oswald murmured, hastily unbinding Edward's wrists, “did you—was that— _twice_?”

Edward shakily took hold of Oswald's wrists, laughing in faint dismay. “Yes, why do you think I...”

“If I hurt you in a way you didn't want,” Oswald said, giving him a concerned kiss, “I need to know.”

“Oh _please_ ,” Edward yawned, letting go of Oswald's wrists so he could swipe at the corners of his eyes. “You're not the only person who can manipulate a situation to your advantage.”

“Point taken,” sighed Oswald, relieved. “And this is a much healthier form of manipulation than...”

“This is penance, too,” said Edward, soberly, stroking Oswald's heated cheeks. “I need it, Oswald.”

“As angry with you as I remain,” Oswald admitted, finding as he stretched his body over Edward's that his erection hadn't faded, “you're still the love of my life, and the most attractive menace I ever met.”

Edward leaned up and bit Oswald's earlobe, sucking greedily. “I want to tie you up this time, too.”

“Is that how it goes,” Oswald sighed, shivering with pleasure. “The rules change when you say so?”

“Today it is, anyway,” Edward mumbled, letting his head drop back against the pillow. “I've been...restless and slightly bored. I've enjoyed spending time getting to know Fish, and assisting Ivy and the girls up at the greenhouse, but...”

“But I've got to up my game, is what you're saying,” said Oswald, impatiently pressing against him.

“I don't know,” Edward replied, clearly frustrated. He let his hands glide from Oswald's ribcage down to his hips, encouraging Oswald's restless movement. “I need... _something_.”

“I might know just the thing,” Oswald panted, struck with sudden, pleasure-fueled inspiration. “For all that Barbara was...joking about that cruise, I can see...the wisdom in...”

“Ah,” Edward said, his tone curiously neutral even as Oswald neared completion. “A vacation?”

“Something like that,” Oswald agreed, nuzzling into the crook of Edward's neck. “Whisk you away...”

“Go on,” said Edward, cautiously, twisting so that they lay facing each other on their sides. He pushed his thigh up between Oswald's, mindful of using it to support Oswald's bad leg. “Tell me more.”

Oswald heaved an impossibly labored gasp, too enraptured with the change in position to respond.

“ _Ed_ ,” he hissed, finding Edward's pace and leverage perfect. He came without further delay.

Edward kissed Oswald's forehead, taking advantage of that day's overabundance of product in Oswald's hair. He fussed with it until it stayed back, although the result undoubtedly looked atrocious.

“I hardly ever think about leaving Gotham,” he said softly. “I know that you're much the same way.”

“You mentioned once that your parents traveled,” said Oswald, thoughts muddled. “Never took you.”

Edward nodded, lips still pressed to Oswald's forehead as they lay panting. “No. They never did.”

“My mother never took me to Europe,” Oswald confessed. “We couldn't afford it. I haven't gone.”

“You can afford it now,” Edward pointed out, sounding hopeful. “Whenever you want, Oswald.”

“I don't want to leave Gotham unless you're with me,” Oswald said firmly. “There'd be no joy in it.”

“Then, by all means,” replied Edward, finally sold on the idea, “whisk me away. I can't _wait_.”


End file.
